Circling the Necropolis
by Joseph joe Kerr
Summary: Everyday life in Naxxramas. Meet the infamous characters, as they do their daily duties, and get a good look inside of their private lives. Aboard the dreaded Necropolis : )
1. Chapter 1: The Dead shall serve

Voices were heard and consciousness returned yet again, for a second time in its life. Slowly, the eyes appeared behind the rotting eyelids, it tried to move, shackles of pure black steel, rendering its efforts of escape useless. The growling emerging, shielded with fangs that once were teeth. Feeling the cold stone floor beneath its naked body, it looked around, a dark vast room, high to the ceiling, with all sorts of twisted designs of bones, decorated the walls. It turned its view, only to see other unfortunate souls, brought back from the grave. It cried out in defiance, but the anguished cry for release was met with an even colder snapping, outburst of vocals.

"Be quiet, you maggot-infested wretch" it came from a tall male, in crystal-blue armor, it looked heavy and for a normal human, it would have been more of a burden than protection. The man's face was pale, with dark lines running from his eyes to his cheeks. Eyes as cold and dead as the monstrous skeleton behind him.

"You were saying, Instructor Razuvious?" the skeleton eyed the disobedient remains of a fallen hero, but quickly returned its gaze to meet with Razuvious. as the pale man turned yet again to its superior.

"As you know my lord, I have been occupied with the new arrival of trainees. I do not possess the time for training mindless undead."

The fallen hero, now with ghoulish appearance, couldn't contain its boiled rage. It lashed out for the Instructor, but in vain. It soon realized its bloodied claws were long out of reach, beaten by indestructible bounds. it sank to its knees. Closing its eyes once more, trying to find the peace of the dead that was stolen.

The floating skeleton expressed irritation as it spoke, with a chilling embrace of death itself "I understand your concern. But prioritizing the living, than the dead is a sign of lack in commitment to the cause."

Razuvious opened his dried morbid lips to protest, but was silenced by the skeleton. Moving closer and sank to the instructor's level of vision, making the skull of nightmare almost collide with the pale mans face. A low and icy cold voice, almost like a whisper, came from the purpled robed horror, but was loud enough that the fallen hero could hear it.

"Do I have to remind you, that you serve the undead?" the last part was said with spite and dominance. "But do not despair, mortal. I will save you the troubling mess of decapitating every ghoul I send your way" the skeleton paused, for a moment it seemed that the conversation was over, but then it spoke again, with disappointment. "I believe the focus should be centered on the newcomers, but by the end of this month, they will be in a position of becoming true Death knights." The blue flame that occupied the sockets blazed more dangerously "Are we in agreement, Razuvious?"

"They will be ready, and will gladly serve as the Master's vanguard" simpering worries came into mind, but were quickly dismissed. "I guarantee it, Archlich Kel'thuzad." A faint smile appeared on Kel'thuzad's white boned frontier. "Excellent, now go, do our Lord's bidding." With that, Instructor Razuvious made his way back the military quarters, but eyeing the sleeping massive frostwyrm known as Sapphiron with slight excitement, before placing himself on the teleportation platform.

The fading footsteps broke the ghoul's train of lost memories and forced its bloodshot eyes up meeting _his_. Kel'thuzad was hovering just in front of it. The memory of how fear felt like hit the ghoul, like the sword he was once slain by.

"As for you, underling. You will not be serving as a simple dummy for the living." Kel'thuzad removed its chains, with a whim of his pale boney hand. And gave it a dagger, spiked and felt tainted by the mere touch of the handle. "Now, end your chained brethrens misery, and dispose of the cadavers." The Lich then disappeared in a gust of the northern wind, to locations unknown. The ghoul looked at the dagger, comprehending the task ahead, giving by the Lich known as Kel'thuzad, its new lord and master. The blood covered hand was shaking, but soon the sign of weakness died out and was replaced with a tightening grip around the unholy weapon. Step by step it wandered with determination to the whimpering ghouls, still chained to the wall.

"Yourrhh…dij..now'h."

**Hey guys! hope you enjoyed the trip into the core of the Necropolis. rate, comment(please let me know whatcha think!) and have a nice day : ) **


	2. Chapter 2: Knights of The Scourge

The Military Quarter, the place where the breathing soldiers of the Scourge would train night and day to prove they were Death Knight Material. And if not, damnation would come either way. To be resurrected as a weapon of the Lich King or a simple mindless servant. And it was here the living members of the Scourge was placed with all the necessary equipment, beds and blankets was top priority, since it felt like winter most of the time. Even the fortress' only kitchen was stationed in the corner of the wing. Here, the trainees would have what they required to survive, while fighting for the Lich King's gift. Safe from the horrors of the Arachnid Quarter, shielded from the grotesque atrocities in the Construction wing and secure from the volatile fumes, which was characteristic to Plague Quarter. Still, from time to time, stupidity and young courage would lead them astray from the Military Quarter and they would just disappear, claimed by their home that was Naxxramas.

"Come on you manky bunch of _livers_" yelled the Baron, with much glee in his youthful voice. Baron Titus Rivendare was leaning against a big crate with weapon supplies, the mark of the Argent Dawn branded on the side. Accompanied by the pitiful, Sir Zeliek. Sitting atop the crate, Zeliek's golden-white plated boots were dangling over the edge. Rocking his legs from side to side, expressing his anxiety, about the newcomers. The feared horsemen were observing the training grounds, the few steps away would lead you to the lower level circle, surrounded by a stone-fence. Huge arachnid symbols covered the surface, and the ground was painted poisonous green. The new-bloods were in the middle of what they would call class, the teacher: a woman in black and blue iron. The two knights watched as the lesson unfolded. Some time afterwards the Baron's attention was captured by the two darkened shards; hovering over their holders, like a lucid prison, giving the illusion the crystals would be free if they wanted to. Small whispers came from the crystals, sometimes sobbing, then cries and sometimes laughter. Titus thought deeply about the purpose of the crystals again as many times before, but his wondering managed to manifest itself into words. "I know I've pained you with this question so many times already, but in all what was once good and righteous cou-" Rivendare was cut off by Zeliek's boot to the Baron's blue and white shoulder pad.

"How many times have I told you I do not know, Titus please, why would you not ask _him_, yourself." Zeliek tried avoiding the conversation by lying down on the crate, his armor screeching on the brown wood. He started to daydream the same fantasy that had roamed his thoughts for so long, the desire of a clean, quick death.

"It spoils the point, there is no sport in asking Razuvious and obtain the answer effortless." Titus shifted his footing to a more relaxing posture, crossing his arms. "Besides, we have all the time in the world at our fingertips, cant discover all the secrets of the place as once, can we now?" No answer met his pretentious question. Rivendare wrinkled his nose in slight anger. "You're such an awful companion. How long has it been since you died at the hands of your new Master?"

Zeliek's dreaming was ruined by the single memory of that day, the taste of ash and blood felling his mouth, he sighed. Zeliek clearing his throat "The day will come, when you and this cursed vessel of a fortress will burn in the cleansing fire of justice" Zeliek could hear his fellow rider sitting down, the metal hitting the floor and the capped back ramming the stolen crate.

Titus calmed down, watching a trainee getting decapitated by the blue iron maiden. He sniffed the scent of his blue scarf, letting the fumes of the past refilling his long-dead lungs. "And when that day comes, Justice will be hunting you as well."

"I'm prepared, are you?" Zeliek awaited the Barons response, hoping for the answer he was looking for. One word and he would be in peace, knowing his brother in arms would never allow him to die. Zeliek, Titus and the other horsemen shared affection in secrecy, which only came to live through insults and degrading jokes. It wasn't illegal to show feelings for another in the Scourge's upper ranks, but it was mostly seen as weakness. In the eyes of the Master, weakness leads to defeat, and defeat is unacceptable.

The Baron smirked, leaning his head back. Looking up to see the yellow-white boots dangling above him, he exhaled, causing his next word to be low and husky "Always…" nothing was said for several minutes, only faint battle roars was heard, coming from the training grounds, which most of the military occupants called the _Dome_. A whine was heard, and excuse made, a begging man pleaded for a second chance. The sound of a blade cutting through air, colliding with flesh and bone was heard, then everything went silent for a moment, and so the sounds of crossing swords and shouting suffocated the silence once more.

"Still, regarding those crystals, do you think it could be his wife and only child?"

"Hold your tongue" snapped Zeliek scowling.

With sinister eyes he continued his prattle "Just imagine the poor souls trapped inside, not even able to move…."

Zeliek's voice rouse with seething hatred, and sat upright upon the crate leaning forward to stare down his old friend. "I swear on the remains of my soul, I will end you myself before this war is over!" the words felt like boulders of pure contempt, howling down on Baron Rivendare, but he was satisfied with the result of a raging Zeliek. Even after so many months, Titus still found it amusing and did no attempt in hiding his bluish eyes which seemed infused with the joyfulness of a child, unwrapping its Christmas presents.

"Boys oh boys, don't kill each other just yet, let the up-coming siege do the dirty work" the statement was coming from the stairs with seducing might. Up rouse the black and blue knight, a helmet covered the graceful face that the two riders knew all too well.

As she drew closer, Zeliek jumped down from the crate. Landing with both boots, carelessly causing cracks on the floor.

She removed her helmet, and a neutral smile found its way to her lips. Standing in front of the two she asked with much anticipation "So, aren't you even going to ask?" eyeing the two.

Zeliek tried to reply first, but was overruled by the man standing beside him. "Well then, did the new-blood enjoy your prattling, Andria?" an untold smirk came behind the blue scarf, the Baron adjusted the scarf, so it wouldn't show. But she knew, it was a habit of his, not showing friendliness, by doing that exact thing.

She giggled slightly and looked at Zeliek, he was smiling too. "Yes my dear Titus, it was if they were spellbound, hanging on every word I spoke." As she spoke, she noticed a drop of blood on her forearm, and tried to wipe it away.

"Are we becoming clumsy, M'lady?" his arrogant glare piercing her forearm. She met his stare, and laughed with sarcasm, that only could have belonged to a noble of blood. "You would be wise regarding uncoordinated actions, you do recall when you first came here?" he went silent, his glare turned down, to see the small spiders on the floor.

"Remember the first time I decapitated your precious sword arm, and you were too weak to fulfill the Master's wishes, for weeks, waiting for the healing magic to take affect?" She took a step closer, putting all her weight in the right foot.

Head low, he managed a quick remark but powerless. He knew she was a better swordsmen than he, despite he begged to differ. He would deny it at every opportunity, to secure his fragile self esteem.

But she was not stopping. "I still wonder why you haven't invited me to dance, again. I'm sure if you try harder you wou-"

The proud Baron couldn't take it and snapped, his wall of vanity crumbling down inside his mind.

"Watch your whore-mouth, you cheating harlot!" he stood up and stormed off to the nearest entrance. In his wake, Zeliek and Andria was laughing. The laughter echoing throughout the training grounds. When Titus was aggravated he would naturally stride off to the huge balcony- north side of the necropolis. There he would look down, at the on-going battle between the minions of Naxxramas and Wintergarde-keep.

Titus was greeted by Razuvious at the entrance. He stopped and bowed slightly, before passing the taller man, and at the same time hiding his grimace behind his trusted scarf. The instructor walked past the two other riders of Naxxramas, asking bluntly. "Did you rip up old wounds again, or was it the story of how he saved Zeliek from Gluth?"

"First guess" replied Zeliek, obviously embarrassed, that Razuvious remembered the Gluth-incident.

The tall pale man just grunted and trot down the stairs, returning to the more familiar grounds. Way better than speaking with the Archlich.

"Lady Bleameaux, I am in dire need of your assistance."

She laid a hand on Zelieks shoulder looking him in the eyes, for what seemed like an eternity for Zeliek.

"Duty calls Zeliek, could you do me the favor and remedying our dear friend Titus?"

He hugged her tightly and watched as she disappeared down the stairs "Always, Andria. Always."

* * *

Razuvious snarled "They have to be ready in 2 weeks" Andria gave him a confused look. "Kel'thuzad's orders." Spoken nonchalantly

She wore a worried face, but said with a stern and straight tone "I understand. We must do it with haste. But all candidates that fail, will not have the chance to try again, I'm afraid."

The instructor scowled "Then get to work, the weakest shall serve as training dummies."

With a cruel smile and a quick draw of her sword, she called out for the trainees. Line by line, the strong men and women assembled in front of the two superiors.

As she started to speak, Razuvious looked over his shoulder, staring at the crystals. His scowl transformed itself to a saddened frown, sparkling with regret and degrading realization.

For a moment the crystals spoke to him, but he turned his back, as he did in the past.

_They were foolish to seek me. They should have stayed in Heartglen, but I guess the master knew they would come along. At least, now we can suffer in eternity. Together, as a family. _


	3. Chapter 3: New bones

"Fool! You're mistaken the concept of this summoning, you don't request servitude! Imbecile little pup. The mindless dead are not asked, but commanded!" Gothik swept the acolyte aside with his long silky sleeve, which hid most of his arm and hand. The teacher's swipe was precise and intended to harm, but only as much so the acolyte would remember failure was not an option. Gothik's methods of teaching were not deadly, most of the time that is. The necromancers and Death knights actually considered his lessons very pleasant, as pleasant as it could possibly be, compared to the teachings of Instructor Razuvious and Lady Blaumeux.

The acolyte's balance failed her, and she tumbled right into the arms of an orc death knight, feeling the spiked gloves penetrate her robe and skin. The Death knight grunted at his fellow student, and threw her a few feet away, landing on her stomach. She sat up, feeling the small amount of blood coming from her left thigh. _Not again she thought to herself, she had just managed to remove all the sickening yellow ooze from yesterday's experiment. _

"Let me lecture you insects in true necromancy" expressing his superiority, he began the ritual. And soon after, the classroom went darker as if a blanket was pulled over them, and quiet whispers were ringing in every student's ear.

The acolyte pulled herself up, ready to watch the demonstration, but her elegant face was met with a wall of scholars. They watched with excitement, as Gothik the Harvester, were doing what most of the world would deem as an unholy act of preposterous dimensions.

The acolyte elbowed her way through the masses, wanting to retake her spot in the front, as she always did. She wasn't afraid of standing in the front. To be honest she was quite the ambitious necromancer to be found among her fellow classmates, with an insatiable hunger for knowledge, equal to that of the great Archlich. And one mistake would not hinder her right to see what she did wrong. She could feel their cold eyes peering at her, as she made her way through the crowd, closer to Gothik. She could already imagine what they would do, if it wasn't for the teacher's presence. It had occurred weeks ago, that she had opened her mouth once or twice too many during class, and had received a considerable beating in her chambers the same evening, by unknown assailants. She didn't care, all of what seemed important right now, was the advanced summoning of a Bone golem.

Gothik's robes were giving in to the unholy wind. The roomy sleeves were running up to his shoulders, exposing his sick-looking arms, an empire of deformed pimples and yellowish skin. The rest of his attire were flapping and whirling all around him, the waves of black wind was produced by the forbidden ritual and to his students, it gave him the appearance of a large shadowy being, rather than just an average heighted human, wearing a dark blue robe with a skullcap, with long white hair coming down on the sides, covering his shoulders. Some of the students raised their hands in defense, shielding their eyes from flying bone splinters and outbursts of dark matter. The acolyte who stood in the front didn't even bother to raise her arms. She wanted to see this, even if the price were her emerald green eyes.

The corrupting winds died out, and Gothik exhaled deeply, bowing his head. The torches that surrounded the hallowed room once more breed fire, with a clear red flame. The elderly necromancer raised his head and turned to see the frightened faces of the mediocre necromancers, a sinister smile appeared on the wrinkled and bearded face. But with closer inspection he saw one particular acolyte standing her ground, steadfast and one foot ahead from the rest. The hulking bone-manufactured creature opened its eyes, orange and black circled around the sockets, in an everlasting race. The grand necromancer gave it a sign to move forward, and so it did. With crackling steps it drove closer to the spectators, but stopped. It then stood as a stature, beside its creator. With its height, could overlook all of the students. Its heavy jaws sprung free and a shrieking invaded the group's ears and pain followed with it. Gothik hummed an old melody, while standing in the safe spot and observed as nearly half the students cried out in agony and fell to their knees.

_And so he lied, and so he lied, that boy of Scholomance, but now the cries weep O' his mind, with not a soul, to sense. _

As soon the humming stopped, the Bone golem ceased its action.

"Crowd control, if one controls the environment, one controls the circumstances, of which the enemy will be fighting in" spoken with dryness matching Gothik's clapping hands and so he asked with false kindness. "Would who like to dismantle, the golem, hmm?" he didn't expect any voluntaries, he knew it was very difficult to dismantle lesser undead as it were. It was only out of pure mockery he requested a dismantling of this magnitude, which should be just impossible for the younger necromancers.

A hooded cult-member took a step forward asking with fear, why it was important to master a technique that only served as a self-destructing mechanic, the stammering made his words almost unreadable. Gothik's scowl was showing his absolute disappointment.

The female acolyte, still standing, representing the few that didn't give in to the bone golem's deafening screams "Because if you lost control of your minions, it is your only option as a necromancer, besides fighting them manually. And we both know, you're not a master at arms."

"You should read the master summoner's notes from time to time, Zar'leg" she looked at the hooded man with kind eyes, and directed them at Gothik once more. Bested but happy, Zar'leg took a step back, lining himself with the others. Zar'leg was the closets thing to an ally she had, it was him that found her lying in her chambers with broken rips, and a bloodied face, that night of her beating.

"Very good, but I'm afraid I don't recall your name child, please replenish my memory." Gothik lifted his one grayish eyebrow

The acolyte proudly took another step towards Gothik and his newly risen minion. The golem growled at her intrusion, making her stop immediately. A bit shaken she switched her attention to the golem for a moment, then back again at the old magician.

"My name is Elisa Truegleam" he watched her with skepticism. A long pause followed making it awkward, but he didn't mind.

"Onward then, Acolyte Truegleam, dissolve this bone golem, as you've read my notes" he turned his head in calm frustration to the other students "Learn from this delicate flower, who is promising more, than you finger-chewing nitwits." he walked past Elisa and connected his long sleeves with each other, folding his hands inside them. He signaled the crowd to back away approximately 2 meters, and turned around, making his robe levitate as he did. "Well? The King does not wait, begin the dismantling"

Elisa breathed heavily, like the rest of her comrades; she wasn't prepared for a dismantling this big, even with the help of the master necromancer's notes. The golem tilted its head in boredom, shifting stance. Slowly, Elisa raised her hand, beginning to murmur something, which only could be the tongue of Damned. The golem felt her willpower invading its mind, and repelled. As instructed by its creator. Elisa concentrated harder, feeling the battle between her and it. Its chest-bones started bending inward, but only slightly, soon the bones found their right place yet again, as nothing had happened.

"I-I can't, its will to live is too strong, master" Elisa felt the cold sweat forming on her forehead and back, the drops of desperation gliding down and blocking her sight. The golem was impenetrable. She couldn't get past its mind barrier and into the core. After several seconds she stopped, leaning forward in exhaustion, placing her hands on her knees. Silently, she tried to catch her breath.

"Nothing is too strong for the Scourge, you just need the right motivation" she saw his maleficent intention, but did not protest, she nodded- accepting her situation, now was the time for proven herself to the Lich King, he was craving this of her, she could feel it.

_She is ready. _

Gothik thought to himself, as he blinked once to the bone-horror and by that, releasing it of his telekinetic iron hold. With newfound fury it charged for Elisa, seeing her as the closets threat. Her heart pounding she raised her hand again, forcing herself into a match of wills with the undead creature. She managed to dislocate its arm, but was send flying as its bulky nature collided with hers.

Bleeding even more from the thigh, she managed to pull herself up, supported by a wall.

Zar'leg tried to interfere from the sidelines, but he was denied by Gothik's long sleeve, blocking his path.

Tasting her own blood, she raised her hand again, disconnecting the monster's right food, but too late. It pinned her up against the wall. Strangling her with its sharp bone-made claw, it snapped out with it fangs, trying for her neck multiple times. But she managed to keep it at bay, her dark raven hair covering most of her face. In an unholy frenzy it flanged her over its shoulder, to the other side of the room. She landed on a wooden table, breaking it instantly.

She was lying on her back, losing consciousness. a bone splinter had impaled her right leg. She was drowning in her own blood.

She could hear its cracking footsteps coming closer, she thought to herself this was the end. The runaway daughter had finally run out of luck. The bone fiend was standing over her, the boney stump of a leg bore into her chest. With all hope vanishing, she closed her eyes and waited for the final blow, blood filling her lungs, and pulsing out of her mouth.

_ Frail not, acolyte. This is not the end of your journey. _

I deep intimidating and echoing voice filled her head, she saw him in the darkness. In his metal blue armour, skulls and spikes dominated the chest plate, and shoulders. The helmet working as the crown was beautiful, with blue icy flames coming out of the eyeholes. He was a true King never the less, but was this really heaven?

_Rise, Elisa Truegleam. Claim your right to serve The Scourge, to serve the kingdom, and its King. _

The Lich King's iron grip reached out for her.

"I know you can do it, child. You are better than this" Gothik mumbled to himself, having second thoughts with unbinding the Bone golem.

With a glint of blue light, everybody flinched and the golem was pushed away with such force, that it was dismantled as it hit the ground, the life escaping its eyes before stopping its death cry.

When the blinding light was fading, Gothik and the rest saw Elisa, her bones were glowing inside her skin, glowing with the same colour as the northern lights. The green eyes that once were, now replaced by a blue all-devouring gaze. Hovering for seconds, her feet finally met the ground, surrounded by the remains of the golem. And so the Lich-infusion ceased. Naked and exhausted she lied on the ground, the great wounds were gone but her coughing took its place. Gothik took off his robe, exposing his putrefied spine. With haste he made his way over to Elisa.

He wrapped her in, and surprisingly lifted her up in his arms, with little difficulty.

The students moved aside as he made his way to the door. "Go back to your chambers, class dismissed!" Gothik and Elisa were gone, and left the group and Zar'leg in confusion, so many question, and so little answers.

* * *

"Master, he… spoke to me. I **saw** him…" she had a faint smile, as she spoke with great pain. He was sitting beside her bed, holding her hand.

"My..chamber, I thought you didn't… remembered me." She had made her own confusion. How did he know where to leave her? they were clearly in her chambers, even though all the students rooms looked alike, she had her own private library in here, which stood out of the crowd.

He looked at her for a moment, taking off his skullcap, placing it on her nightstand. "We have kept an eye on you for awhile, Lady Truegleam." Shocked, she made even bigger eyes, she tried to speak, but a painful coughing-spree was all that came out between the blue lips.

"Try not to speak child, let me explain." the elder necromancer inhaled, even though he was dead, it was a difficult habit to abolish.

"As the Cult recruit new members on a regular basis, we see if the new members have more potential than the rest, of course not to worry the person or the rest of the new members, we have what we call _Shades_ to keep an eye on the ones who we deem to have potential. I assume with so many books, you know the stories regarding the Shade of Naxxramas, yes?"

Elisa nodded, with growing excitement.

"The Shade has been watching you since you came here, and the reports identify you as one with potential" his wrinkled smile, was foul, exposing his black and yellow teeth.

"What.. is.. the. P-p-potential" she needed to know, what was it? was it good, bad? Potential for sacrifice? _No no_ she thought, that couldn't be it, the King himself had spoken to her, she was more important than that of a simple blood gift for the dreaded Darkfallen known as San'Layn. Her train of thought was cut short by Gothik, closing in on her, only a few inches separated them, his smile long gone.

He steered into her leaf-colored eyes and spoke in mild pleasant tone.

"The potential of becoming. A Lich" her dumbfounded expression told Gothik all he needed to know, and returned the favor with half a grin. Gothik heaved himself off the bed, his old bones punishing him for doing it too quick. He placed his cap on his balding head, watching his overwhelmed student.

"There is a reason he spoke to you, even if you have the potential. It is rare for our master to interfere in such endeavors. You must be more interesting than this pathetic war."

A concerned look, spread across his face. She remembered the last time she saw her parents, Gothik's expression resembled her fathers.

"You be wise to listen to him, if he comes back. "

She nodded weakly without question.

"Good, now rest. You will be taking the day off tomorrow, but I will be expecting you two full moons from now. Goodnight Acolyte." The harvester went on his way, closed the door silently and the vanished into the corridors of the necropolis.

Not Long after Elisa heard the heavy but fast footsteps passing her door. whom she thought: Could only belong to the handsome Baron, something must have been very important for the noble to stroll that quickly through the corridors. as she could hear, he was taking the direction that would eventually lead him to the great balcony. Elisa always enjoyed reading there, when she had the time. She wondered why the Baron often came there. The view was amazing in the morning when the sun awakened from its slumber, giving birth to another day in Northrend. Maybe he enjoyed the sun, or the eternal battle beneath their home. After all, he had the reputation for being a warmonger. but he was somewhat polite most of the time, she had a short-lived conversation with him once, asking him about his life before death, they shared a laugh or two before he was called upon by the other riders of the elite four, and had to leave immediately. But he was quite the catch, she admitted to herself, but all too soon the thought of what just happened this evening entered her mind.

Elisa relaxed her sore muscles, comprehending all the information that was just handed to her. She could not fail, if her destiny was to become a Lich, she would gladly accept it, with all that would follow with it. Gradually she fell unconscious, but before her eyelids came down like a hammer to the anvil for the last time that night, she saw the shade in the corner of the room and heard it speak, in almost dying whispers.

"_You, daughter of Fandos and Marie Truegleam, is prepared for the gift untold, only accepted by the strong and the bold. And in death, ye never tire, or blaze out like the mortal and dying fire. You will become a herald of cold embrace, a champion, destined to wander in our Master's grace. But heed my words. Your soul which you offer to dwell on the powers realm, is also cursed to suffer. And if a thought of treason against our King is laid, so may your soul also fade, and become nothing more than a shallow shade." _


End file.
